Breaking it Off
by Ellipsis Black
Summary: Ginny thinks she and Draco should break up. Draco disagrees.


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Breaking it Off

By Ellipsis Black

Rating: R  
Warnings: Blood, violence.  
Pairings: Draco/Ginny.  
Summary: Ginny thinks she and Draco should break up. Draco disagrees.

~~~~~

Her face is a studied mask as she looks at him from across the room. The candlelight flickers in her hair, casting shattered light on the walls and reflecting off the full-length mirror that dominates the room. 

Draco always notices these things. He is a creature of senses—sight, sound, touch, smell, taste—rather than intellect. 

"I think we should break it off, Draco."

Her skin is so perfectly smooth in the ambient light, Draco thinks. It's like satin. 

He walks towards her, raising one finger to stroke her jawline, but she swats it away.

Her tone is irritated now. "Did you hear me, Draco? I said we should break it off!"

This time he hears her, takes in her words.

"Break it off? Why?" he can't comprehend.

"Because we have nothing in common, my friends hate you, you can't be trusted and you don't think I'm anything more than an object!"

"What!" He's getting angry. "Ginny, I love you!"

"Do you, Draco?" She says coldly.

"Of course I do!" He grabs her arms and shoves her towards the wall, pulling her back slightly at the last moment so that the impact doesn't hurt her.

She stares up at him, expressionless. "I _am_ just an object to you."

He kisses her, fiercely. He doesn't realise how much he needs her, until that one kiss makes it all crystal clear. Gently, he pushes his knee between her legs, enjoying the rasp of fabric on skin, and the sighing moan it elicits against his mouth.

He takes one hand away from her arm and uses it to slide up underneath her robe, collecting the fabric as he drags it up above her knee, then bares her thigh and finally, his cold fingers rest on her hipbone, baring her underwear.

"No." her mouth forms the shape, but Draco ignores it, too intent on exploring the inside with his tongue, tasting her saliva mixed with his own.

He releases her other arm, pressing his body against hers to keep her in place. His hand he brings up to cup her chin, marveling once again at how warm her skin seems to his icy fingers. He drags the hand down her neck. In response, she tilts her chin upwards, breaking the kiss, but Draco doesn't mind. He recognises the gesture for the submission it is.

Slowly, the fingers trail down her neck, tracing her collarbone, pausing in the hollow where they meet before sliding down to rest on the first catch of her robe. Deftly he undoes it and slides his fingers inside to massage the soft skin on the swell of her breast. Ginny's breath hisses out of her and she collapses against him.

"You are so beautiful, my love," he whispers, then gently sucks on her earlobe.

She writhes, grabbing his hand and shoving it hard into the soft skin of her abdomen. He knows what she wants. She wants a little pain with her pleasure. He's happy to oblige. 

He digs his nails in, just slightly and shove her to face her reflection in the mirror. Standing behind her, he leans down and bites the junction of neck and shoulder, massaging the skin with his teeth. He watches her reaction in the mirror. Watches her watching her reaction.

She flushes. 

"This skin is mine," he purrs in her ear. 

He slides his hands down either side of her body and rests them possessively on her hipbones. 

"This body is mine."

She leans against him. Her hand snakes up over her shoulder and tangles in his hair.

Then she pulls, hard.

He hisses at the sudden pain as she yanks him around to stand in front of her.

"You arse," she snarls, completely unintimidated by her disarray. "Nothing of mine is yours."

He tries to maintain an impassive face, but her breasts are heaving, and he wants to touch them.

She closes the gap between her body and his. He stares down at her hair, glinting red and gold and resists the urge to bury his face in it. He can see the imprint of his teeth on her neck. It maddens him.

Ginny is staring at him predatorily. He smiles, grabs her and shoves her against the wall again. Once again, he slides her robe up her side, until the smooth underside of abreast, the curve of waist and hip, the white fabric and her leg are bared. 

There's a faint scar along one of her ribs. Draco sobers. He remembers the night she got that scar.

It was his fault. He had been taunting Potter again. All he had ever done was taunt Potter. This particular time he had used a nasty spell that acted like a blade. He had said something like, "you've made such an industry out of that scar of yours Potty; how about I give you another one?" But a flash of red hair distracted him at the last moment and the spell had gone awry, hitting the source of the flash, rather than its original victim.

She didn't scream. She just gasped. Her eyes locked on him and he felt them go through him like a shot. Suddenly he was trembling with arousal. And she… she was panting slightly. She had one hand pressed to the wound and when it came back bloody, she flushed.

That evening after dinner she found him and dragged him into an alcove. She grabbed his hand and pushed it up her robes until it met with the bandages around her ribs. They were loose, and his fingers slipped easily inside to touch the wound.

She melted against him. "You did that to me," she whispered, her breath hot on his neck.

She dragged him out of the alcove and up into the library, which was pretty much deserted.

Then, she sat him down and carefully, almost tentatively, kissed him.

He responded immediately, taking control and sliding his hand up her robe.

She tensed, and when he drew back, she was blushing.

He realised instantly what a jewel she was. A girl with his own tastes in relationships, who was nonetheless virginal, or all-but virginal. A blank slate on which he could write what he would. For that he was willing to take things as slowly as she wished to.

Weeks later, he learned from a friend that Ginny Weasley was hardly inexperienced, as she'd been working her way through the eligible bachelors of the school since her fourth year. He didn't mind though. Her hesitance on that first day had been genuine.

Draco drops to his knees and rests his head on her partially bared stomach, loving the feel of the tiny hair against his cheek.

Tenderly, he pulls her down with him, until she's sitting with her back against the wall. He curls by her side, head in her lap, arm drape possessively across her legs.

"I love you," he whispers.

Her fingers play with his hair. "I know."

Sombered suddenly, he sinks further until his head is resting on her lap.

"Do you love me?"

"Yes, Draco, I do."

"Are we fucked up?" he asks softly, almost to himself.

"Yes, Draco, we are."


End file.
